


Moped Romance

by darthvair65



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Italy, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthvair65/pseuds/darthvair65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost on the back alleys of Rome one night, Axel finds a savior in a young blond on a moped. A love story with subtitles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moped Romance

**Title:**    Moped Romance [1/12]  
 **Pairing:** Axel/Roxas, background Riku/Sora, Zexion/Demyx for kicks  
 **Warnings:** Boys speaking Italian, language, Roxas being a whore, highly embarrassing moments, high-speed races through Roman traffic, Larxene.  
 **Rating:** R.   
**Beta:** the BetaMistress alovelysilence  
 **A/N:** Inspired by experiences had by a good friend of mine while we were studying abroad in Rome, Italy, in the spring.  
 **Disclaimer:**   I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned; they belong to their respective artists and labels.

 

 

 

Track 1 – Just Dance

 

_I’ve had a little bit too much_

_All of the people start to rush, start to rush by_

_How does he twist the dance? Can’t find a drink, oh man_

_Where are my keys, I lost my phone_

 

            Axel realized far, _far_ too late that drinking half the bottle of absinthe before heading to the bar was not only completely stupid but also just a really bad thing waiting to happen. The legal drinking age is sixteen, so what idiot needs to pregame when he’s already of age in the foreign country he’s staying in? Axel chose not to answer his own rhetorical questions, he was in no state to consider such a thing. The bright colors blossoming before his eyes were up for discussion, though.

 

But really, Axel knew that if he kept going the way he was he’d end up being sick in the bathroom, and that was not considered cool by any stretch. Demyx kept bringing back shots and Axel downed them without question, which was part of the reason why this was just a bad thing waiting to happen. Demyx, despite all thoughts to the contrary, could hold his liquor far better than a sailor, but Axel refused to be out-challenged by a Bio major with a mohawk. Though by now . . . even Demyx had his limits, but as long as his credit card didn’t there was no stopping him.

 

_What’s going on on the floor?_

_I love this record baby but I can’t see straight anymore_

_Keep it cool, what’s the name of this club?_

_I can’t remember but it’s alright, alright_

 

Where the hell was he anyway? Huh. Good question. He couldn’t remember if this was their first or last bar of the night, or even if they’d ever left, though he didn’t remember walking or taking a taxi. Huh.

 

Another important question: why had he felt the need to test his own ability to hold liquor against the Green Fairy? Of all the drinks, he had to pick the one with the worst reputation. It was like . . . trying to fight Chuck Norris; Chuck Norris could make you think he was dead and then _Wham!_ you’d be on the floor in seconds never knowing what hit you. Maybe the Green Fairy was Chuck Norris. That’d be a twist.

 

_Just dance, gonna be ok_

_Just dance, spin that record babe_

_Just dance, gonna be ok_

_Dance, dance, just dance_

Why did he have Lady GaGa stuck in his head?

 

“Dude,” a voice bellowed in his ear, offering an explanation. “You’re fucked up.”

 

“Oh hey Demyx,” Axel said brightly. “I was just going to find you!”

 

“Really?” Demyx, excitable thing he was, gasped, and Axel decided that yes, he was probably even drunker than Axel. “That’s so cool! I found you first, ha ha!”

 

Zexion would keep Demyx in line, though. Axel was on his own on that front; Zexion and the other guys in the apartment flat-out refused to babysit anyone else in the event of extreme drunkenness. It was custom, even if said custom was only a few weeks old, to take thoroughly embarrassing pictures of a roommate if they got terrifically drunk and passed out in their apartment, usually covered in marker.

 

“Demyx,” Axel said seriously. “Do have any idea where we are?”

 

“Uhhhhhhh,” Demyx blanched. “No.”

 

“You’re in a bar,” Zexion snorted, coming up next to Demyx. “Or did you forget?”

 

“Duh we’re in a bar,” Axel teased. “What bar?”

 

“Hell if I know.”

 

“Ok. Well, I’m going to head back to the apartment.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Axel nodded. “I can handle it.”

 

_Wish I could shut my playboy mouth_

_How’d I turn my shirt inside out?_

_Control your poison babe, roses have thorns they say_

_And we’re all getting’ hosed tonight_

 

Zexion shook his head and shrugged. His hair looked awfully purple in the bar’s lighting. “Do what you want.”

 

“Alright, see you tomorrow!” Axel waved and started pushing his way through the crowded bar into the chilly night air.

 

The winters, Axel had deduced, were considerably milder here than the winters he’d experienced in the states. He’d only been in Rome a few weeks, but had quickly learned to appreciate the Mediterranean weather. The mornings trekking to the bus stop were only slightly intolerable, a distinction made by the fact that Axel’s shower-wet hair never really formed icicles as they walked.

 

Speaking of icicles; Axel shivered. His t-shirt and jeans were not really weather-appropriate for the wee hours of the Roman morning. Axel glanced around, gradually becoming alarmed that he didn’t immediately recognize any of his surroundings. Nor did he remember arriving at that bar, or where they had come from. He did manage to find a sign that indicated he was on Corso Vittorio, the main street in Rome, which was a good sign. Thinking of no one else to call in such a situation – and not wanting to go back into the club to wait for Zexion and Demyx – Axel pulled out his new Italian cell phone and dialed, hoping he wouldn’t get eviscerated for this.

 

After a few rings there was a click; a very tired and distinctly grouchy female voice filtered ominously in from the speakers.

 

“I’m going to kill you.”

 

“Larxene! Baby sweetie lovemuffin –”

 

“Continue that sentence and I will remove your balls, fry them, and force-feed them to you.”

 

“Larxene,” Axel amended, wincing as his hand jerked to his crotch in a defensive maneuver. “I, uh, how do I get home?”

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I’m going to kill you.”

 

“No no no no, no no, don’t kill me, think of my unborn children –”

 

“You’re gay, you’re not going to be fathering any children in the near future.”

 

“Please, just . . . hear me out.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Ok. I’m totally lost. We were at some bar downtown, I mean, I think I’m downtown. But . . . yeah, the buses aren’t running, and I want to go home.”

 

Axel heard the facepalm a mile away.

 

“Oh my fucking _God_ you’re a moron.”

 

“Yes. I’m a moron, can you help me get home now?”

 

“One second,” then Axel heard rustling like bed sheets and paper.

 

“Oh. Were you asleep?”

 

“Axel,” the voice warned. “It’s 3:30 in the morning. And no, I was masturbating, so – ”

 

“Anything good?” Axel asked, his curiosity peaked.

 

“Gay porn.”

 

“Well, obviously.”

 

“Where are you, you Godforsaken moron.”

 

“Oh, uh . . . Corso Vittorio.”

 

“Ok. Start walking and tell me if you see any landmarks.”

 

Axel started walking down the street, ignoring the gypsies who accosted him. After a few minutes he whined, “Larxene, how much farther?”

 

“Do you have any idea how long that street is, dipshit?”

 

“Not nearly as long as my dick.”

 

“Leave your cocktana out of this. Where are you?”

 

“I told you. Corso Vittorio.”

 

Larxene sighed loudly. “Can you see anything?”

 

Axel turned on the spot, looking for a landmark and stumbling slightly. “Uh. I see the wedding cake thingie.”

 

“The Victor Emmanuel monument? There should be taxis there.”

 

“Nope. All gone.”

 

“Weird. Ok then. Keep going in that direction. When you get to the next big intersection, take a –”

 

Axel zoned out. Typical of him in a drunken state; alcohol just completely wiped away his entire attention span.

 

“ – And that should get you home,” Larxene finished with a sigh. “Got that?”

 

“Yeah,” Axel said nonchalantly. “Got it memorized.”

 

“Good. Don’t call me again, or I swear I’ll make you my sex slave.”

 

Axel grimaced. “Gotcha.”

 

Larxene hung up without another word, leaving Axel completely and utterly fucked.

 

“Chill out,” Axel muttered to himself. “You got this.”

 

Ten minutes and a few wrong turns later, Axel was well and truly scared. He’d wandered into what he was sure was a sketchy part of downtown; well, it probably wasn’t all that sketchy, but his drunken mind made a lot of it unclear and fuzzy, and he was pretty sure he’d stepped on some poor old beggar woman in the darkness. Amid angry mutterings he quickly rounded another corner into another alley, a little better lit this time, and flailed on the spot before dropping to sit, curled up, on the curb.

 

Even in his drunkenness he knew he was completely fucked. Axel dropped his face into his hands and began to hyperventilate.

 

“Tutti ok?” The voice broke clearly through Axel’s deep, gasping breaths and turbulent mind a few minutes later.

 

Axel started and opened his eyes. Leather boots, jeans, and the front end of a moped filled his vision.

 

“Sei perso?”

 

Axel’s eyes followed the legs and body connected with the boots, taking in the old blue jeans, worn leather jacket and fingerless leather gloves, then the headfull of ash-blond hair and a pair of big, deep blue eyes. Axel stared.

 

“Scusi,” the blond said, smiling now. “Sei perso?” _Are you lost?_

 

“Si,” Axel answered gravely, still staring. _Yes._

“Va bene. Vieni,” the blond offered him a hand up, which Axel took. Axel wracked his alcohol-saturated brain, searching for the translation. _Alright, come._ Suddenly Axel was jerked up and on his feet. Wow, the kid was short. And very strong for his size. He handed Axel a helmet. “Sei ubriaco,” the kid said, chuckling, as Axel took the helmet. _You’re drunk._

 

Axel nodded, not trusting his mouth at the moment.

 

“Dove abiti?” the blond was asking as he straddled the moped; Axel managed to clip the helmet on and clamber on behind him. Oh – _where do you live?_

 

Axel told him the address, hoping he didn’t slur it at all and confuse him. The blond nodded and kick started the engine on the moped; Axel was suddenly jerked forward with the sudden acceleration. “Oomph.” He wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist tightly as they took off, the thin tires bumping over the cobblestones.

 

Within the next few minutes Axel was starting to feel woozy and ill; the combination of the alcohol in his system and the bumpiness of the roads was not working for him. His head was swimming.

 

Finally the blond slowed and pulled to a stop, pushing out the kick stand on the moped. Axel glanced around; sure enough it was his own apartment. Axel stumbled off the back of the bike, working the clasp under his chin. His head was still swimming uncomfortably, and he felt unsteady on his feet. He almost stumbled as he pulled the helmet off; suddenly felt strong hands grip both his elbows. Axel’s gaze flicked down to see the blond staring up at him, clearly worried. He was talking, but Axel couldn’t hear him; he looked away, trying to find his equilibrium again.

 

Axel suddenly jerked; he looked down and saw that the blond had jerked him by the elbows to get his attention. Axel met the blonde’s eyes, and for one shining, glorious second, his head felt clear and he was drawn into the blonde’s brilliantly sapphire-blue eyes.

 

Then the illusion was over; Axel pitched forward and vomited on the blonde’s boots. Axel heard an indignant and disgusted shout and felt a fist connect with his cheek before everything went black, the roar of the moped engine echoing in his ears long after he fell.

 

 

 

 

 

“Just Dance” belongs to Lady GaGa; this was totally the theme song of our study abroad.

 

 

 


End file.
